Dreamscape (In Two Movements)
by Cat Lady Murmur
Summary: On a silvery winter's night, Remus Lupin reflects on his broken life...{Completed!}
1. Sacrifice

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Disclaimer: I do not own ANY of the characters in the following fanfic (unfortunately…*imagines her own Lupin in a pretty cage in her room*), they all belong to the lurvly J.K. Rowling.

Nyao, hi there! =n.n= I hope you enjoy this fun lil thing…"fun" meaning "weird, and perhaps a little depressing", but of course it's a matter of interpretation. ;) It's based loosely around the timeline before PoA, so any inconsistences can be chalked up to creative license. Oh yes, and when you're through, would you please let me know what you think? Taynks. ^-^

Enjoy!

*lights dim and curtains part...*

Dreamscape (In Two Movements)

By Cat Lady Murmur 

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Movement One: "Sacrifice" 

I have always admired the silvery winters. To me, nothing can compare to the frigid beauty of fresh snow glimmering in the moonlight, like crushed diamonds that have been shed from their velvet bedding above. The silence of a white carpet so thick that even the slightest footstep can be heard half a mile away. On those nights, it was as if time held still, just for us, as if it enjoyed accommodating us and allowing us to continue with our games until our paws were numb and our fur was damp from the tumbles taken in the drifts. Those nights became the epitome of my life before long: just four close friends playing and brawling good-naturedly together in an ageless silent sphere where the world was ours for the night. James, Sirius, Peter, and myself. The Marauders.

It's nights like these however when, left to my own devices, I can do nothing but remember, and the pain envelopes me. Repetition has done little to give me strength; rather, it has begun to chip away at whatever resistance I have been successful in building, and despair sets in. I have lost everything of value and my world has been shattered, the ruins of which I have refused to acknowledge until recently.

It's peculiar really the way we assume that by simply pretending our problems are of no importance, it will become a reality sooner or later, that by stuffing them into that proverbial closet, our troubles will accept it and disappear. What we don't consider is the logical fact that the more we push aside, the more accumulates. But we hide it, with stoic facades and vain attempts at strength, and meanwhile our underlying strife sabotages it all.

The fall of Voldemort (at the cost of James and Lily's lives, of course) failed to spark within me a sense of rejoicing as it did throughout the wizarding world. In the face of freedom I couldn't look past the smiling eyes of my dear friends, the likes of which would never smile again. It was a tremendous and devastating shock, but whispering in the back of my mind was that voice of reason I was known for, and it told me time would pass, washing away the worst of my grief with it, and I would be able to laugh and smile again, and life would be reasonably normal again. After all, I still had two people who were grieving as well.

The last time I had been so miserably wrong had been in my 6th year at Hogwarts; I had miscalculated the amount of a certain ingredient to put in a somewhat potent itching powder that Sirius had had his heart set on emptying within the Slytherins' wardrobe. Unfortunately, the excess ingredient caused a harsh reaction and the jar exploded in Sirius's book bag. Needless to say, Padfoot was quite unhappy (as well as uncomfortable) for a good while. 

Which is now the way he'll remain for the rest of his life, locked away in Azkaban for the murder of James and Lily, and for the public massacre of 10 muggles and one wizard: Peter. In 2 days I lost everything that ever gave my life meaning and the emotional trauma was too much to bear. In fact, I'm sure it killed my voice of reason, because there were no comforting words whispering to me anymore. There wasn't anything encouraging my strength. Just silence, and cold, dark despair.

At first I tried to believe Sirius's pleas of innocence, I held onto them as if they were the only pillar left holding up my crumbling existence. But people were talking constantly, convinced of his guilt, throwing outrageous reasonings into every theory, and they were so _loud_…whatever was left of my logic concerning Sirius was soon drowned out and I began to wonder, "What if he _was_ jealous? He'd always been borderline troublesome, what if his personality was much darker than we ever knew?"

Nobody said anything to correct me, and the pillar collapsed.

It had always seemed impossible to consider that the Marauders would disintegrate the way we have, it was simply something everyone thought would never happen. I believed in this so fervently; you can probably understand then that the denial I became entrenched in was as murky and deep as a river choked with floodwaters. My friends were the flames that kept my miserable life warm, and for a while I simply refused to accept that they had all been snuffed out.

But now the icy loneliness is incredibly tangible, and my world is one perpetual winter night lacking the peaceful beauty attributed to the one currently outside of my window. _My_ winter is bleak and somber, and has been as such for 8 years. And as I sit here in this comfortable room given to me for the night by Professor Dumbledore, with a gentle fire soothing the biting cold that is creeping in through the old walls, I can hardly bear conscious thought any longer. 

I don't know why I came back to Hogwarts, especially since the memories here are more harmful to my fragile state of longing than anything else. Perhaps it's my overwhelming need to know that not _everything_ is lost. I have no friends and no family left, only the kind headmaster who was one of the first (and limited few) to accept me early in life. I knew he wouldn't turn me away if I came to him for help, but the shame of asking for more from someone to whom I owe so much already was a horrible burden that still burrows deeply within my chest. It didn't help my internal conflicts even when Dumbledore smiled gently and offered lodging for as long as I needed it. The understanding in those pale blue eyes should not be wasted on me, a weak and pathetic man who's failed to keep a grip on what could have been a promising life. I had once even told myself that afflictions and past events cannot be changed and thus we should not allow them to change us. 

Once more, I've failed.

It was surprising to see Severus here as a professor, and I could tell that he was equally as surprised to see me. I have never really harbored any ill feelings for the man, but I know he blames me for his embarrassment at school. As if I had tempted him to follow my friends out into the Shrieking Shack on purpose.

A small, sad smile comes to my lips with the remembrance. Age-old and petty disputes from long ago seem to provide me with a sort of a security blanket, a perverse assurance that things were never completely all right. 

I sigh, turning away from the falling snow outside of my window and look now instead to the blade in my hands, a simple knife that had been brought up with dinner, a cold device devoid of meaning and symbolism. The irony is almost too much as I catch my own reflection in the red-stained surface.

"So now what?" I ask myself, my voice returning to me as weak and hopeless.

I wait for the answer that will never come, and turn to the window once more.

Have you ever seen blood upon freshly fallen snow? Sinful crimson upon white flakes, as if to mute the blinding purity, and is yet absorbed. Beautiful. I must see it again…

The warmth of the room has broadened the scarlet ribbons painted across my wrists, the fiery sting that had borne them long-since faded. My tattered robes are soaked with precious life…I wonder if I have enough left to fulfill this sudden desire…

Unsteadily, I pull myself to my feet from the armchair and my head…ugh…it feels as if it's been emptied. For a moment, I simply stand there as I try to balance myself and clear the blinding lights from my eyes. I take a breath and attempt to cross the room to the door…simply one foot in front of the other…or perhaps the other way around?

I stumble suddenly, the lapse in thought disorienting me, and I hit the floor…hard. I lay there for a moment on the cold stones. I can almost feel the gentle snowflakes caressing my broken spirit, and I decide it's not worth the trouble to stand again. It's almost over now…the pain, isolation, fear…it's almost over…

I close my eyes.

As the door opens.

__

What a marvelous joke I've played! I think, and though I don't quite understand myself, I want to chuckle. But I can't…I can't move…almost over…

I can hear quick footsteps, and my name is shouted. Someone grips my arm.

Leave me alone please, I'm trying to rest.

"You're trying to _die_," snarls the voice as they remove their hand from my arm.

Did I say that out loud…?

Sounds of cloth ripping…fumbling something around my left wrist with deft fingers, working in silence. This is irritating. Stop it, I'm trying to rest…

More ripping noises and something is tied around the other wrist.

"Can you stand?" says the unbelievably familiar voice with a hint of worry. I decide I don't like it. Worry shouldn't touch this man's voice, it makes him much too…human.

"Mobilicorpus," he says after a moment, and suddenly I'm weightless. Such a freeing feeling. However, my feet touch the ground again and one of my arms is slung around broad shoulders. I can barely lift my head, and so I let it rest against him. Such a familiar scent, and yet the name dances just barely out of reach.

Dances into the darkness, and I follow it.

~*~

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A/N: Movement Two will be up shortly. In the meantime, what'd you think of this so far? Comments? Flames? X-mas Presents? ^-^ 


	2. Epiphany

A/N: Whew! Sorry it took so long to get the second part up here, I really didn't think I'd be so lazy about it. @_x

So yeah. Part Two, the final part, blah blah blah...it was kinda hard to end this, especially since getting into DD's character is a lil difficult...but yeah. ^-^ Read, enjoy, and please tell me what you think. -_-;;

Ja!

~*~

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Dreamscape (In Two Movements)

By Cat Lady Murmur 

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Movement Two: "Epiphany" 

"Remus?"

…

"Are you awake?"

…ugh…darkness…painful, achy darkness at that. Where am I?

A gentle touch on my arm urges me back to full consciousness, but I refuse to open my eyes. I have a splitting headache, and it feels as if opening my eyes will let the pain run rampant throughout the rest of me. No, better to keep it contained…

"Where am I?" I hear myself say. I hate my voice…

"Madame Pomfrey's office, Remus. The medical wing."

"My…head hurts."

"As well it should. A lot apparently happened last night."

"Last night?" How long have I been out? I struggle to remember last night's events, but everything is hazy, out of order. It feels like a hangover. "What happened?"

"You're very lucky, you know," says my visitor in a soothing voice. "If Severus hadn't come up to see you--"

Severus. Last night. Snow…crimson…cold…last night!

"Oh!" I cry out suddenly as I remember. "Oh…oh God…that…"

I attempt to sit up straight, but can only get there halfway before the pain in my head catches up with me, and I slump against the headboard of my bed instead. Severus. I rest my head against my hands in weary defeat. I'd hardly consider myself lucky. Last night should have been the end, and it _would_ have been if he…

"I thought he hated me," I observe softly, and look slightly to my right. Dumbledore is sitting there at my bedside, smiling a gentle, fatherly smile, with a hint of concern in his old, compassionate face.

"I know the two of you have had your differences," he says, "but even Severus would not let you die like that. There are times when we must look past the things that separate us in order to do what is right. It is our moral duty."

We're silent for a moment as I let his words sink in, and he observes me in quiet patience. Any moment now he's going to ask me "Why?"…he'll give me such a disappointed look, tell me he thought I was smarter than that…

"Here."

He offers me a mug. I can pick up the sweet aroma of chocolate carried upon the wisps of steam rising from the lips, and for some reason this very simple thing instills a twinge of relief somewhere deep inside. But I can't will myself to accept it from him, and am left instead to stare wistfully at the mug. Dumbledore smiles again and eases the cup into my unsteady hands. I chuckle weakly.

"This is your answer to everything, isn't it."

"It's one solution," he says as he takes a sip from his own mug.

"Not always," I murmur.

A peculiar look comes across the headmaster's face for a brief moment, and he sets his mug in his lap. "Remus…I understand what a heavy burden you must be carrying. Life has never really been very kind to you, has it?"

"It has," I say softly. "But only to establish how cruel it can really be…"

He nods thoughtfully. "You've lost a great deal…but, my dear boy, you must understand that everything has a reason, and that one cannot be held under for too long. Perhaps, instead of being so hard on you so as to prove just how terrible life can be, this is the prelude to a joy that needs such a contrast to be properly conveyed? Always remember, you're never given more than you can handle."

"If that's true, then I've certainly failed at it…"

"Someone will always be there to catch you when you stumble. Severus would like to talk to you," he says before I can argue.

__

Most likely to rub my nose in this, I think bemusedly as Dumbledore leaves the room. A moment later Severus enters, a somewhat intimidating figure with his tall stature and sweeping black robes. I look away from him as he sits where Dumbledore had been moments before, and I wait for him to speak first. From the corner of my eye, I can see he's thinking very deeply about something as he stares intently at his clasped hands upon his knees. 

__

Just say it, I urge him silently. _Say what you're thinking, tell me I should've died but now I owe you my life, JUST SAY IT!_

"I will not hold this over your head," he mutters, his voice a velvet purr that must come naturally to someone like him. "Contrary to what you may believe, I would take no pleasure in your death, nor any debt from preventing it."

This revelation of his personality leaves me speechless for a moment. "I didn't want to be saved," I say.

"I know that!" he snaps. "I did not do this expecting your thanks, or for you to be even the slightest bit grateful. However, I would hope you'd see just how foolish and misguided your decision was--"

"Don't think you can give me a life lesson," I snarl suddenly. "You have no idea what you're talking about! You think you know how hard it is to be what I am in a world that _hates_ me? Do you understand how difficult it is to live without any reassurance that yes, I _am_ needed? Of course not! You have _no_ idea!"

A hot surge of guilt washes over me as I fail to restrain myself. Why did I say that? Why am I so ready for a fight?

"Selfish werewolf!" Severus growls as he rises quickly from his seat, and I can see I've clearly set him off. "Why do you think you are the only one to ever experience loss and shame?! You are not so special that you life deserved salvation, or that your tragic pleas deserved attention! Your friends gave their lives so that you would still have your own and this is how you repay them?! Your reasoning has become flawed, Lupin. Such a pity, I would have thought that was _one_ trait you'd at least _try_ to retain!"

I'm drowning in the shock and guilt his words have buried me in, and as he turns to leave I try to say something more…

__

Apologize to him! Don't let him think you're an ungrateful--

"And Lupin," Severus says from the doorway, his eyes positively glittering with anger, "next time you choose to lay down and die, please be a little more considerate when it comes to who must clean up your mess. After all Dumbledore has done for you, the least you could do is spare him such a task."

And with that final twist of the knife, he leaves the ward, slamming the door behind him. Unable to make much sense of what just happened, I look down at the mug that is still in my hands. I'm trembling more than ever, so I set the beverage down on the bedside table and clasp my hands firmly in my lap, but to no avail. I can't stop the shaking as Severus's words come back to me.

__

"Why do you think you are the only one to ever experience loss and shame?!"

"But…it's more than that," I whisper tremulously. "It's so much larger than that…isn't it?" It has to be! He…he can't just reduce everything to one sentence, there's more to it than that!

Right…?!

…right…?

Something warm slips down my face and falls to my clenched and shaking hands, onto the ghost whispers of scars upon my wrists from which crimson once flowed. A color that once symbolized bravery in my life, but now stands for cowardice. I'm a broken man, denied the one thing that could have made everything so much easier. Now I'm left at a dead end, without any options close at hand. What do I do now? Where do I go from here? 

Is this all just a never-ending cycle?

Too many questions, not enough answers…

Somebody…please help me…

"Self-reliance is a virtue," Dumbledore says as he comes back to my bedside. "However, used in excess it becomes a flaw…"

"I don't know what to do," I whisper through tears. "I don't know what to think anymore…"

Dumbledore rests a comforting hand on my shoulder and says, "All you need to do is ask. Help is always available to you when you need it."

"I already owe you so much…how can I ever repay you as it is?"

He's silent for a few moments, but then: "You are a strong-willed young man, Remus. If you had been meant to leave us, then you would have been with James and Lily that night. But that was not your fate. Their son, Harry, needs someone now to help him remember his parents, to help him understand his place and role in the salvation of so many others, and to be able to live his own life with those very roots. In a few years, he'll need the guidance more than ever. Return to me then, Remus. You'll see, things will work out."

__

Harry…Dumbledore's words have never failed me, and even now, in the midst of my own self-pity, I know what he says is true. 

Once more, the hot chocolate is offered to me and this time I take it on my own. Dumbledore is smiling at me again and raises his mug. "A toast then, to a new life," he says cheerfully.

And now I smile, a weak one, yes, but one that can actually reach my eyes. 3 years sounds like such a long time…but then again, it'll be a test of my endurance now that I know I'm not alone. I _will_ take this challenge, and I _will_ succeed.

I raise my mug to his. "Cheers," I say, and we drink to it.


End file.
